


At The Tip Of His Fingers

by LooxLikeAlix



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2020-06-29 01:59:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19820203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LooxLikeAlix/pseuds/LooxLikeAlix
Summary: Athos happiness always seems to be a bit too far away from him.Fic written on 2014 based onthisprompt asking for “5 times Athos reached for someone and one time that someone took his hand”.)





	At The Tip Of His Fingers

**Author's Note:**

> I was doing some file-cleaning and found some old fics that were mostly finished, so I'll try to post them every now and then because why not. I'm not really reading The Musketeers fics that much any more (Good Omens has claimed my brain this summer), but I miss the fandom very much.
> 
> This was written right after season one, when everything was better.

***** One *****

He raises his hand out of habit, searching without looking for the warmth of his mother skin and the softness of her fingers around his. Instead he finds the rough fabric of his father’s jacket, but he clings to it nevertheless, trying to find something to keep him grounded.

“Behave, Olivier” his father mutters, and even if there is no anger in his voice, he regrets the move and lowers his hand again, looking at the floor.

The church is still except for the priest, who keeps talking about what constitutes a full Christian life, but Olivier has lost track almost since the beginning of the mass. He focus instead on trying not to cry and stares at his new black shoes, which aren’t still worn-out and hurt his toes. Even little Thomas is silent in the arms of the wet nurse, though that probably is because he doesn’t know what is happening.

He doesn’t know that their mother is dead.

Olivier tries to sniff without making any noise, but he can feel how his father looks at him again and he knows that he hadn’t managed to be quiet. He squeezes the fabric of his own pants with his little fingers and shuts his eyes as hard as he can. Maybe when he opens them, his mother will be holding his hand again.

***** Two *****

Everyone in La Fère knows that Thomas, the youngest son of the Count, is growing more than fine. He walks around the market sometimes, chatting with the sellers and making the young women blush, and he always sits in the front row in church listening carefully at the priest and making his father proud. Young and sure of himself, he is everything his father could have wanted him to be.

For Olivier, he has always been an ally in the constant battlefield of their father’s expectations and their tutor lessons, a friend to talk about adventure books and forget about Latin and families genealogies. But as time goes by and the height difference gets smaller, he can feel Thomas growing far away from him.

But today is a good day, and Thomas convinces him to ditch their lessons and go out where the sun is shining and they can climb trees. Sneaking through the back door, Olivier follows him and the warm day and green fields ahead of them feel like paradise. His brother starts running and he goes right behind, looking at the back of Thomas head and asking himself how long will this happiness last.

He calls Thomas, but his brother keeps running and laughing, and Olivier wonders if he will ever be able to reach him.

***** Three *****

Even with her hands tied and death upon her, she looks beautiful.

Olivier wants to put that lock of hair behind her ear because he knows it always bothers her, but he also knows that if he comes closer he might not be able to go on with this. As he nods slowly, he has to tighten his grip on the reins to avoid himself from raising his hand, from shouting something and making Remi stop it all, from surrendering again to a world full of her and full of her lies.

He knows that if he doesn’t look away, he will go towards her again and he will caress her cheek looking into her eyes with questions whose answers won’t be what he is looking for. So he turns his horse around trying to silence the part of him that awaits for her voice to call his name, to unexpectedly tell him a way to fix everything, to save them both.

But Anne doesn’t speak and the priest has finished his prayers. And he rides away.

***** Four *****

Athos makes a small gesture to the waitress and she nods at him. They already know him in this tabern, and they know what he wants and for how long he will be wanting it. It has become a routine of his and, sometimes, it even works.

With every bottle, the ghosts of the people he had ever loved start to fade, but he never manages to make them disappear completely. Maybe because he usually passes out before reaching that point. Maybe because some part of him is afraid of what would become of him if he ever lets go what has been defining him for so long.

He hears some loud noises and cheering, and he raises his head looking at the tavern’s door. When he manages to focus his gaze he distinguishes some of his fellow musketeers settling themselves on another table across the room. Before he can look away, one of them looks back at him and for a moment they are looking at each other eyes. Athos asks himself through the fog of the alcohol if he should acknowledge their presence raising his glass or walking towards their table.

But they are having fun and Athos has never been a social type of person, so when the conversation gets the other man’s attention he just joins the laughs of his friends breaking the visual contact. Athos lowers his eyes looking to his half-filled glass and his fingers clasp around the locket in his neck.

***** Five *****

Ninon’s hand is trembling against his cheek and Athos has a knot in his throat as he listens to her voice. He may want to ask her to stay. He may want her to ask him to go with her. He may want a lot of things that he can’t put into words and that he knows that can’t be, so he just holds her hand to help her get into the cart. For a moment their eyes meet and he knows that she was thinking the same.

There are things that aren’t meant to be and it seems that this is another one in Athos’ life, but despite the inevitability he can’t bring himself to say ‘goodbye’ as he watches her go away.

His heart skips a beat when she turns back one last time. But even in the distance, her face looks sad and there’s a touch of hopelessness in her eyes so he does nothing. He has learn that if life wants to take somebody from you, trying to fight back doesn’t make things better.

He stays in the forest until Ninon’s shape is long lost between the trees and the rain. 

***** And The One That Mattered Most *****

A few streets after leaving Constance in her house, with the locker not longer in his neck and when he thinks that nobody will see him, Athos leans his back against a wall and lets himself fall in the ground. He just needs a minute to remember how to breathe. When he opens his eyes, a hand is entering his field of vision, palm up and fingers inviting, and he looks up. Aramis, with Porthos and d'Artagnan on each side of him, is smiling at him.

“I think we all could use some wine”, Aramis says and the offering in his voice is kind and welcoming as it always has been, but for Athos the whole world has been turned upside down and it feels like listening to those words for the first time.

He opens his mouth to say something before realizing that he doesn’t need to.

Grasping Aramis’ hand with his own, he lets him help him stand up, and as soon as Athos is on his feet again Porthos pats his shoulder in a friendly gesture that feels at the same time familiar and brand new. The air feels fresh in his lungs and his friends hands steady him like so many times before.

And Athos feels safe.


End file.
